‘I don’t want to spoil your fun, Dad, but the whole Negro slave era was just the same. There are tons of theses and books about it.’
‘Yes, I know, but I am saying that this was the moment, the moment critique, that sparked it all off here, a long war, like Gavrilo Princip’s assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand. Right here on February the 6th, 1838, at an exact moment of time and history, something happened that had terrible and lasting consequences.’
‘And our ancestor was to blame.’
‘I think he was the catalyst; he blundered in, miscalculated completely, and this fear and loathing led to apartheid and the idea that you needed to control black men at all times or else they would chase you into the sea after raping all your women.’
Subdued, we drive on towards Blood River. I may be imagining a growing closeness between me and Lucinda. I am longing for it.
I give her the background: Blood River was the place where Dingane tried to finish off the Boers for ever. It went very badly for him. The Boers, under Andries Pretorius, had drawn up their sixty-four wagons in a circle, protected on two sides by the Blood River. The Zulus attacked in waves but the Boers fired repeatedly until the Zulus were lying in piles in the river and around the wagons. Three thousand Zulus died while only three Boers were lightly injured, one of them Pretorius. To them this miracle was God’s doing and they entered a covenant with him. As a schoolboy I was supposed to acknowledge the Day of the Covenant. It was a holiday; we acknowledged it by taking the day off to surf at Muizenberg, where Bertil had his surfing lessons. In those days nobody had heard of great whites.
The first sight of the sixty-four bronze wagons, full-sized, startles Lucinda. For a few moments she thinks they are real wagons. The wagons are placed in a circle on the bank of the river to commemorate this great day. Each wagon is identical to the others. A small boy of about eight is fashioning clay heads of cattle beyond a fence. As I approach him, he holds up the clay models. I buy them both and give him ten times what he is asking. His little, desperate face collapses. He starts to run in the direction of a village. I don’t tell Lucinda that it is in remembrance of the children on Tannie Marie’s farm.
An elderly Afrikaner is in charge of the museum. He is wearing the sort of clothing I recognise from my childhood, not so much out of fashion as dredged from deep time. Diffidently he offers to run a short film of the battle, made forty years ago. Yes, please.
When they are shot it’s striking how enthusiastically the extras behave in this old film. The Zulu extras pile into the river and fall back into the water dramatically. They attack, futilely, but wholeheartedly. Before they are shot, they hurl their assegais with intent as if they are enjoying a rerun of the original battle. I wonder if they were carried away by the opportunity of a return fixture. The script demands that they fall and play dead, which they do with gusto. The pretend-injured hobble away clutching their wounds on shattered legs. The film is in black-and-white so the eponymous blood is not available, but we can imagine it. For all its old-fashioned technique, the film, like the old man’s clothes, touches me.
‘Great value, Daddy, two massacres in one day.’
‘Don’t be so cynical, Lucinda.’
‘You have to laugh in the face of disaster. Dad, I have had a great time being with you, and this has been incredible, like absolutely amazing. Just you and me.’
‘I’m glad, darling. It’s always been you and me.’
She turns away from the landscape to me.
‘I know you have been very worried about me.’
‘Yes, I have been very worried about you. But that’s my job.’
‘I am over it, Daddy. I promise. I can see that there is much more to a life. When you are taking drugs you just like lose all proportion. You are looking for smack all day long and it’s like nothing else matters. People think heroin is difficult to get off, but it is not so difficult to get off at all, the only thing is that it is much more enticing than real life. When you are clean you feel absolutely useless. It’s totally crazy.’
She hugs me and I hold her vulnerable body close. I am careful, as if her body could snap like a twig. As a parent you must console your children at all times.
Gibson, who is a naturally solicitous man, says it would be best to be off these dirt roads before it is dark. Lucinda and I get into the car and huddle together on the back seat, complicit in our special knowledge, all the way to the coast. Gibson passes us the picnic hamper. We tuck in to the sandwiches.
I was elated when Lucinda said she was definitely over her drug phase; all the taut air left me in a rush, like a maverick balloon at a children’s party. Now I look at her lovely face, which always recalls the young Georgina. The flickering light catches the bolts in her nose. I say nothing, although I hope she will have them removed.
‘I will get rid of them,’ she says, seeing me looking too obviously, my gaze, like a moth’s, drawn to the light.
We are tired out by important thoughts, unexpected emotions and huge skies. We sleep the sleep of the just, although nothing more than a father and a daughter together again.
20
Jaco is tooled up. He has his 9mm Beretta 92FS semi-automatic strapped to his thigh, ten rounds in the magazine. He is totally pissed off. That fucking bitch won’t speak to him. She says he doesn’t even know his children’s names. What a lot of kak. There is only two, Elmarie and June who is named June like Johnny Cash’s wife Junie, how can I forget that. What a voice. Junie has a voice like an angel. It juss cut through your feelings so you can change from sad to happy in a blink or go the other way happy to sad. June Carter – Junie. That voice can make you cry. When I was in California I play the soundtrack from the film all the time until they take it away and wants me to go in the E-meter to clean my head. If I would have the Beretta then I would blow their fucking heads off.
It’s shit hitch-hiking but the brothers on the farm will not lend me even a bakkie nor nothing. Niks nie. They want me to piss off and get lost for ever. They say I am giving a bad example to the blacks by fucking Hester and drinking too much. Who cares I am fucking Hester. Anyway I thought this was the new free South Africa, fuck anybody you like, no worries.
He’s standing by the road taking a soepie from a jack of brandy. Commando Brandy. He’s going to rescue his children and take them on holiday. He’s still got some of Uncle Frank’s cash. Maybe they can go to Durban for a holiday. The people there is called the Banana Boys because they grows bananas there. A black guy stops to pick him up. His car is low on the springs like all these people’s cars is. They haven’t got a fucking clue how to look after a car. He gets in anyway. The black guy is going some of the way before he turns off. He wants money for sure.
I will give you fifty rand, bru.
OK, sharp.
He’s ready, one up just in case. The Beretta is warming his leg.
After a few kilometres the black guy’s car has a puncture. Jaco helps him change the tyre. The black guy drops Jaco off at an Engen station. Fuck knows where they are. He asks a driver who is filling up to give him a ride in the cab of his coal truck, because I can see he is Afrikaans. He tells the driver he must see his wife who is having baby number three.
You can’t by law sit in the cab.
Listen, my ou maat, I must go to Nelspruit. A baby is being born.
And you are one of the fucking Wise Men. Okay I will take you but my arse is grass if they finds out.
Jaco passes him the brandy: have a dop.
Are you fucking crazy? I got three hundred tons of coal in this baby.
What baby?
This truck.
Okay, ek verstaan. My naam is Retief. Jaco. And yours?
Willem Van Zyl.
They shake hands. The truck roars. Jaco has a soep of Commando. It’s nearly dark when he arrives in Nelspruit. It’s pissing down. The driver wants him to get out without being seen and he stops the truck behind a huge tin-and-brick building with no windows. An abattoir. Slaghui
s.
I know how dead cattle and sheep is smelling.
Jaco has no idea where Elfrieda lives – he’s never been to Nelspruit. He walks to the Wimpy and has a cheeseburger with hot sauce. Just what I need. He washes himself in the lavatory and rinses his mouth. I look like shit. I look old. Ja, but a few days in Durban jolling with the Banana Boys will fix me up. Maybe I will take up snorkelling again. He calls Elfrieda’s mother, Francine. She thinks she is a Huguenot. She hates him. Jaco says he is sending a present for the girls and he needs the postal address.
Just a minute.
He can hear scratching like mice in the cupboard. The old people is so fucking slow. Scratching and coughing and looking for their fucking glasses. Talking about drink, Francine is a champion.
Orright, Jaco, it is 41 Jacaranda Avenue, Nelspruit 2207.
Baie dankie, hoor, Ma.
I am not your mother.
I know, Ma. When is Elfrieda getting married?
Next week.
What’s his name again?
His name is Wynand.
Lovely. Okay, tot siens, Ouma.
The line is dead. It’s not a problem to find the house. The manager of the Wimpy, an Indian outjie, lives in the next street. He gives me a free coffee and a jam doughnut because I am going to be a father. He thinks. He says it is more or less ten minutes to walk. He draws me a map on a paper napkin. He writes also ‘congratulations’. That’s nice. The streets is quiet. I come there and I see that the lights is on and I climb over the wall and walk through the garden. They doesn’t have any security. Maybe it go on later. I stand myself behind a bush covered with red flowers. It’s hot here in Nelspruit. I can see in the front room the back of a man. The fucking bridegroom. Wynand. Then I see Elfrieda come in carrying some food on a tray. It looks like it can be a T-bone. The man is staring at the television. His face is flickering. He doesn’t look at Elfrieda when he takes his tray he just hold out his hand. He’s got vok-all manners. I walk to the front door and knock and ring the bell.
Who’s there?
Polisie, Specials.
The door comes open a little way on a chain and I push it in no trouble with my shoulder.
Ooh my God, dis Jaco. What do you want?
What you think? I have come to see my children.
This Wynand stands up in a hurry. He is a big bastard.
Fuck off out of here, he says.
Who sez?
I says.
He moves towards me. His fly is open. I take the Beretta out of my pants and aim straight at him. Still he comes and I shoot him in the groin area. In the sausage department. Blood, Jissus, it’s like a fucking fountain. Elfrieda is screaming.
Shuttup. Hou op, jou hoer, the children will wake up.
Are you crazy, you shot Wynand. You shot him.
Get the girls out of bed, I want to see them.
Now because of that poes Wynand I can’t take the children with. Durban is out. The cops will be looking for me. I must see the children. The children is crying in their room. I want them to shut up and be happy. The boerbull comes out from the kitchen. It makes a horrible noise, its eyes is watery. It stinks of dog shit. I am going to shoot the fucking dog if it try to bite me.
And I want the car keys, Elfrieda.
I say if she calls the police I will kill her. She believes me even if it’s not true.
Elfrieda, the children mustn’t see Wynand, definitie.
They are at the door staring at me, their eyes like bush babies’.
Hello, girlies, howzit with you? You are coming to stay with me on the farm next Easter, don’t be frightened. That’s right, neh, Elfrieda? Tell the girls.
Yes. We are all going to Daddy’s farm.
Is Oom Wynand coming?
No, Elmarie.
Wynand is groaning in the sitting room.
Stay here, don’t move.
I go to the sitting room. He’s fucked, he’s twitching. Probably gevrek.
Elfrieda, where’s the car – I told you I am taking it. So where is it?
In the carport.
Okay, let’s go. Bye bye, girls, see you at Easter. Tell them to say goodbye, Elfrieda.
Say goodbye to your pa.
Bye-bye, bye-bye.
I kiss the girls. They looks poep scared. Elfrieda tells them, don’t leave your bedroom or I will give you a klap.
She’s crying and shaking. She takes me to the car, a small Ford. It’s a clapped-out piece of shit.
Is it diesel or petrol?
Petrol, Jaco.
Call the ambulance and the police when I has gone. Tell them you was asleep and kaffers stole the car. Don’t say I shot Wynand. I wasn’t even here, neh? You say that a black man came here, you didn’t see him but you heard him shouting and Wynand shouting and you have stayed with the girls and then you have heard a noise and then he must’ve been shot by Wynand. You was too frightened to come out.
Fuck this Wynand. If his fat slang was not peeping out of his pants he will be alive now. And we can be on the M5 to Durban. Jaco, Elmarie and little Junie Carter-Retief. A familie.
Jaco floors the accelerator and sets off towards Cape Town. The acceleration is pap. They also have sea down there but no bananas. He starts to sing. ‘Ring Of Fire’. He doesn’t know why. He can’t explain it. Maybe this is what Elron Hubbard calls the free flow of energy. Something like that. Or maybe exteriorisation which is when you leave your body behind.
That’s me. That’s Jaco Retief. I left my body behind in Nelspruit. I fell into a ring of fire. A ring of fire.
21
Nellie has decided that we are going to be married in Cape Town. Lucinda wants to be the chief bridesmaid, and little Isaac will be a page. His status is still unclear, and we don’t want to contemplate what might happen when he goes home. If he has a home. Now we can’t imagine being separated from him. We see him as our child too. He is standing beside the pool, armbands in place, ready to dive. In he goes. He paddles furiously and climbs out so that he can dive again. We watch him as he waves a salutation. He gives the impression that he feels he must humour and console older people.
‘I dived, Grandpa.’
‘You did, Isaac. A lovely dive.’
‘Yes, I did. I will do another one.’
‘Okay. One more.’
In he goes, paddling like an insect when he surfaces. I move to lie on a sunbed next to Lucinda.
‘Darling, we have to know about Isaac. Won’t you tell me the whole story? We are anxious.’
‘You don’t need to worry, Daddy. His parents are both happy that he is here. I have emailed them a few times. No complaints.’
‘Yes, but you are on a false passport.’
‘Daddy, I had to bring him. My boyfriend, actually he’s my ex-boyfriend, was doing a lot of drugs, he was mashed most of the time, and his ex, Isaac’s mother, is also a complete disaster. She’s even been an expensive hooker. I mean, that’s no life for Isaac. I should know. I am clean now, although they say after you have been clean for two years, only then can you begin to talk about a cure. Thanks to you I had proper treatment.’
‘Sure, sure. I can imagine that it’s no life for him. But how does this all end, Luce?’
‘It will be okay, Dad. I will look after him. I will get custody in the States.’
‘I was hoping you were coming home to London.’
‘I have some unfinished business in California. Then I’ll come.’
‘Will you still have Isaac?’
‘I hope so. Do you want him to come to England?’
‘Of course, if it’s legal.’
‘If I had a choice, I would stay right here. He loves it, I love it, but I must go back.’
She has always had an adamantine quality; I can’t ask her why she has to go back.
There’s a pause.
‘Dad, it’s fine. Honestly. Just trust me. And I will come to Sweden too. I love Nellie.’
‘Okay, but please, please tell me if things go wr
ong.’
‘I will, Dad. I’ve got the idea. Now for the wedding planning: I am looking forward to that. I’m like wildly excited in fact.’
Nellie and I have told our close friends that we are getting married, and Alec has decided to come immediately, because he can’t stand another minute of country life in winter. A surprising number are coming. The Swedish relatives have been soothed by knowing we are going to have a Swedish blessing as well, on the island of Grinda in the Stockholm Archipelago. The Wärdshus has already been booked.
Nellie and Lucinda take charge. They have met the young Anglican vicar who is going to take the service. His name is Tim Fetch. In his spare time he is a champion sea kayaker. He appears to belong to the Church of the Great Outdoors, Lucinda says.
‘He also wants some of your favourite poems to be read out. He thinks that would be nice. He’s quite happy-clappy. You might have to close your eyes and hug everybody.’
‘Fuck, wedding’s off.’
‘Grandpa, you sweared,’ says Isaac.
‘I swore. Yes.’
‘You did swear, yes, Grandpa.’
‘Sorry.’
Isaac does another of his dives.
‘What’s your favourite wedding poem, Daddy?’
‘Shakespeare, 110. You recite it, Luce. You know it.’
‘Let me not to the marriage of true minds/ Admit impediments …’
As she starts to recite, her voice goes right through me; I feel as if I had never heard it before. She stands with the sea behind her.
‘ … love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O no! It is an ever-fixed mark,
That looks on tempests, and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken.
Love’s not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle’s compass come;
Up Against the Night Page 16